Power over Me
by emeraldorchids
Summary: Miranda Priestly is one of the most powerful people in New York. Andrea Sachs is her personal assistant, devoted to keeping Miranda satisfied at all costs. Miranda puts Andrea in a difficult situation.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Power over Me

A/N: I don't own The Devil Wears Prada or any of its characters.

Chapter 1

"Andrea," the editor called from her office in a cold voice.

The young assistant practically ran into Miranda's office, relieved that Miranda was finally using her name and not calling her "Emily."

"Yes, Miranda?" Andrea asked.

"Skirts, Donna Karan. And pickup that thing I liked at Bergdorfs on Tuesday, have it wrapped for Bea's party tonight. Cancel my appointment this afternoon with what's-her-name. Tell Nigel that we need 75, not 50, and to pair it with lace, not rockstuds. Take Patricia to the spa and have her and the girls' luggage packed and ready when they return from school. And my coffee. That's all."

Andrea was exhausted from listening to the litany of Miranda's demands. She rushed out of Miranda's office, still writing notes in her notepad. The woman was insane, but Andrea saw it as a challenge to keep Miranda satisfied, one she did not hesitate to accept. She did her very best trying to please Miranda. She would not leave _Runway_ with a less than excellent recommendation.

Andrea sighed as she thought back to when she started fourteen months ago. Her eagerness, commitment to Miranda's satisfaction—she had no idea what she was getting into. How had it all started, she wondered, just as she received another "confidential" email from Miranda, sitting less than twenty feet away at her desk. The email was simple: "23 — 3 minutes." but Andrea sighed deeply, deleting the message and minimizing her email screen before pushing away from her desk.

"Hey Em, I'm going to check on those layouts," Andrea said as she began walking away from her desk.

Emily glared at her. "Why are you wasting time telling me about it? Bloody hell!"

Andrea shrugged and rushed over towards the Art Department, walking past Nigel and Jocelyn's offices and around the back hallway to reach the stairs. Five flights of stairs was nothing for her, and over the past few months, she had managed to maneuver them quite well even in the highest stiletto heel.

Miranda did not need to say where she was going—her absence was never questioned. Pressing "23" on the elevator, she paced back and forth until it opened at her destination.

The twenty-third floor of Elias-Clarke had been vacant for the past few years after three very promising publications failed in succession in those very offices. It was the only entirely empty—and unmonitored—space in the entire building.

Andrea made her way from the stairwell to the southwest corner office and leaned on the desk in the middle of the room. When she heard the elevator doors open, she braced herself, gripping the desk tightly, as she waited for Miranda.

"Now!" Miranda shouted as she stormed into the office and closed the door behind her. Andrea quickly jumped off the desk as Miranda was barreling towards her. Miranda threw her body over the desk, her ass sticking up in the air because of the added height from her Louboutins.

Andrea quickly stepped closer and assumed her position behind Miranda, sliding Miranda's tight BCBG Max Azaria skirt up her legs, her pinkie fingers dragging along Miranda's thighs above the lace of her thigh-highs. Miranda was not wearing any underwear. Andrea would be lying if she said she no longer had feelings for the woman.

Her left hand anchored on Miranda's left hip, she pressed her fingers against Miranda's slit. "You're so wet, Miranda." Andrea said quietly.

"Silence!" Miranda shouted. "Inside, now."

Andrea quickly pushed three fingers inside Miranda's core, thrusting her hand in and out roughly as Miranda's grip on the edge of the desk tightened, her knuckles turning white.

"Ohhh!" Miranda growled. "Fuck—me—baby!" she panted. "Yes—oh yes!—do it harder—quicker!" Miranda's breathing was ragged, and if Andrea didn't know better, she would guess Miranda was gasping for air. Miranda's body rocked back and forth on the desk, grinding her clitoris into the edge of the desk each time. "Oh—oh—oh—fuuuuuuuck!" Miranda screamed out as her muscles tightened and waves coursed through her body. Andrea carefully pulled her hand out and opened the desk drawer to reach for a tissue to wipe her fingers on as she waited to be dismissed. She never knew exactly what Miranda would want, or how much, but she learned never to leave without being dismissed.

After several minutes, Miranda pushed herself up from the desk, her skirt still bunched around her waist. "Touch me," she commanded. Andrea stepped closer and slowly slid her hands up and down Miranda's body before reaching under her sweater and caressing her skin, massaging her breasts. Miranda's eyes were closed as Andrea's hands roamed her body.

Andrea lifted Miranda's sweater up and over her head, tossing it to the desk as she caressed the older woman's neck and shoulders, moving down to her arms, then back to her breasts. Andrea leaned forward into Miranda's neck, and whispered, "beautiful," before returning her attention to Miranda's breasts.

Feeling the hot breath on her neck, Miranda stopped moaning and immediately raised her hand in front of her. "That's all!" she said, and Andrea turned and left the room. When Miranda heard the elevator, she opened her eyes and smoothed out her clothing and sat for a moment to catch her breath before returning to her office.

Returning to her desk, Andrea was met with Emily's ire. "Where have you been? Miranda will be back at any moment and I have to pee! Ugh, and you didn't even get those layouts. I swear, I don't know why Miranda even hired you, you are so incredibly incompetent and—"

"Emily, go to the bathroom before Miranda gets back." Andrea said calmly, letting her insults wash over her.

"Right." Emily said, running down the hall to the restroom.

The elevator doors opened and Miranda walked into the office. "Why is my coffee not here? I'm sorry, Andrea, do you have other more important things to do?" Miranda said without making eye contact.

"Uh, no, Miranda. I'll be right back with your coffee," she said, running out to the Starbucks across the street. Andrea was so aroused from her earlier activity, she was surprised she didn't come from walking across the street. In the elevator, though, since she was alone for the ride up to the 18th floor, she pressed her free hand between her legs, slightly relieving the ache.

The rest of the day had been a blur. Miranda and Emily were gone by 6:30pm, and as she waited around for the Book, Andrea called her friend Doug to meet her at Tobacco Road around the corner for a quick drink.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Andy, sweetheart, what's going on? You never call me this early." Doug said as Andrea took her jacket off and sat across from him in the corner booth at Tobacco Road.

"Doug, I can't take it anymore. I—I just—"

"Hold on!" Doug said, squeezing Andrea's hand across the table. "Waiter! We need drinks. Two double scotch with one ice cube and a dry gin martini with a twist, please."

The waiter nodded and hurried away. "Thanks, Dougie," Andrea said, fighting back tears. "It's her, Miranda." Andrea said, her eyes avoiding Doug. "You know how I've felt about her since I started. I can't get over her, I can't get her out of my mind."

"Have you told her?" Doug asked, not entirely certain of the situation Andrea was describing. He knew she found Miranda vicious and calculating, but also irresistible.

"No! My god, I can't just tell Miranda Priestly that I'm in love with her and want her to take me home and fuck me like there's no tomorrow!"

"Whoa, Andy, it's that bad?"

"Yes. But there's more."

"Go on," Doug said, as their waiter appeared with their drinks. Andy took a long drink of her scotch before continuing.

"So Miranda has always been rather demanding, right? I'm her personal assistant, and my job is to keep her satisfied, keep her life together, all so she can devote time to selecting skirts or accessories or whatever. Fine, I get it, I signed up for it."

"So what's the problem?" Doug asked impatiently.

"About a year ago, her demands of me became more personal and less related to _Runway. _It started one night when Miranda was at a gala and I delivered the book—she called me upstairs to unfasten her gown and help her out of it, then quickly dismissed me. Little things like that, that were very private. Another night, she thought she felt a lump on her breast and asked me to feel it, too. Once, when the Book was ready early, she called me upstairs to put on her hosiery since her nails were wet."

"Wow," Doug said, quickly downing his martini and ordering another round.

"It gets worse." Andrea said. "She brought this to work. One day it was 'Shut the door. Massage my neck, I have a headache.' while another I was holding her hands to keep them warm. I quickly learned to always shut the door whenever entering her office. Eventually, she called me in and asked me to help her with something in her private bathroom. Turns out, she couldn't figure out how to change the battery in her vibrator."

Doug gasped in shock before he began laughing at the image of Miranda Priestly with a vibrator.

"Yes, I know. Funny." Andrea said, rolling her eyes at her friend. "But it wasn't funny when she finally gave up on the vibrator and asked me to 'just use [my] own fingers, they seem long enough'! Then she wanted more, my hands, my lips on her body, sucking her juices. She slapped me one day in the beginning when I pressed my lips to hers. She does _not_ do kissing."

"But, Andrea, isn't this what you want? I mean, you've been telling me how irresistible she is since you started." Doug said.

"No, well, yes. Don't get me wrong, I love touching Miranda and it's an incredible feeling to give her such powerful orgasms, but she won't touch me. She is disgusted by me, Doug. She won't even look at me throughout any of it—she keeps her eyes closed. If I even say so much as "you're so wet," she silences me." Tears began to fall down Andrea's face as she finished her second scotch. "Doug, I want her so badly, but I can't say anything because then she'll stop wanting me to fuck her. I don't know what to do anymore," she cried.

Doug quickly moved to sit next to Andrea and pulled her into his chest as she cried. "Listen, sweetheart, you are an incredible person. You are gorgeous, smart, sexy, and you have an enormous heart, perhaps too big for your own good. Andy, you have to do what's right for you. If it doesn't feel right, it's probably not. Give Miranda an ultimatum or something. So what if she fires you—she certainly wouldn't dare give you a negative recommendation when you could expose so much."

"I know, Doug, I know. But it's my job to satisfy Miranda. I signed up for this, and now I'm refusing to do my job? It's not that easy. If Miranda is not satisfied, _Runway_ suffers. I can't do that to her, Doug…I love her."

Doug sighed and held his friend tight. It was so clear to him that Miranda was abusing her position of power. Andrea was her employee and whether she realized it or not, she was satisfying Miranda's whims out of a sense of duty, responsibility, obligation. Andrea was a nobody and Miranda had the world at her disposal. If Andrea really did have feelings for the older woman that weren't born out of their recent sexual relationship, Andrea would first have to overcome her submissiveness and stand up for herself and her needs.

"Doug, I have to get back."

"I'm sorry I haven't been any help, sweetheart."

"No, you have. I needed to tell someone about what's going on. Thank you for listening."

"Sure thing, Andy. Do you have to deliver the book tonight?"

"Yep."

"So, will she ask you upstairs or something?"

"I never know. Probably not, since she called me to our little room on the 23rd floor earlier today. But, if she's not with her new boyfriend, she might."

"Andy, do you really love her? Like, if she touched you back and whispered sweet nothings, would you be happy?"

"Yes, yes, definitely."

"Then you need to tell her, show her how you feel."

"—But Doug, I told you she will silence me or push me away."

"Well, think of a different way to send the message. Look, this is a longshot, but there's a little comic book shop across the street that also happens to sell sex toys. Pick up one of those strapless strap-ons—a nice big, thick one—and wear it when you go deliver the book. She will not push you away once that's inside her, and you'll get something out of it, too."

"Oh, Doug, I don't know…" Andrea said, blushing slightly.

"Ok, I'm going to go buy it for you. I'll bring it up to your office in 20 minutes, k?"

"Ok."

"Good, now I will see you later, sweetheart," Doug said, placing a kiss on her forehead and heading out.

Andrea walked back to _Runway_ praying that the book would be ready. It was still early, and if Miranda did have plans with anyone, she would likely still be out, and Andrea could deliver the book to an empty house.

She sat at her desk, waiting, browsing the internet when she received an email from Miranda: "I do hope you are delivering the book tonight, Andrea."

Andrea thought for a moment how to answer. Miranda would clearly be expecting her and for once, Andrea could prepare herself. "Yes, Miranda, it will be my pleasure. xx" she wrote back.

As Stewart was walking towards Andrea's desk with the Book, Doug stepped off the elevator with a small bag. "Thanks, Stewart, have a good night!" she said before standing to meet Doug.

"Here you are, babe. It's flexible. You'll love it. If things don't work out with you and Miranda, umm…"

"Oh shut up, Doug!" Andrea said, slapping him playfully. "Should I put it on now?"

"Yes, sweetheart. Toss your panties in your bag and slip this in. It will stay put, and your jacket will hide the bulge."

Andrea quickly slipped into Miranda's private bathroom and asked Doug to watch the door to Miranda's office. A minute later, she walked out, a grin on her face.

"Fun to walk in, huh?" Doug asked.

"Ohmygod yes. You have no idea. Thank you, Doug."

"Not a problem. I want a full report tomorrow morning."

"Sure thing. You should leave first. I don't want Roy to see us together."

"Got it. Bye sweetheart!"

"Bye, Dougie."

Doug headed to the elevators as Andrea texted Roy and wrapped her coat around her, grabbing her bag and the Book.

"Good evening, Andrea," Roy called as he opened the door for her.

"Hi, Roy. No dry cleaning tonight. Just straight to Miranda's."

"Yes, ma'am!" Roy said. Andrea's heart was racing, knowing she would be touching Miranda tonight. And every time she clenched her legs together, the dildo rubbed just a little bit against her g-spot. At this rate she would be breathless when she reached the townhouse.

Andrea climbed the stairs and entered the townhouse, walking over to the table with the flowers to place the Book. "In here," Miranda's voice softly called from the den. Andrea left the book on the table and taking a deep breath, walked into the pitch black den. Once her eyes adjusted, she saw Miranda dressed in a cream-colored long silk nightgown, with slits high up the sides. She was laying on the couch with one leg draped over the back of the couch, her gown pulled up, exposing her sex.

Andrea's breath hitched at the sight. She didn't dare step closer until Miranda expressly asked her to.

"Andrea, remove your coat—leave it on the chair," Miranda said. "I would imagine you know what to do with this little problem," Miranda added, gesturing at her exposed folds.

Andrea approached and knelt in front of the couch. Miranda's eyes closed and Andrea leaned forward to lick and suck her juices. As Andrea continued, Miranda was wildly bucking her hips into Andrea's mouth, desperate for more. "Deeper," Miranda said between moans, "inside—fingers," she added.

Andrea already had her skirt pulled up and was holding the dildo, gently moving it inside her as she had her mouth to Miranda's slit. Andrea stood and placed one knee on the couch, her left hand on Miranda's hip, and dipped two fingers into Miranda's soaking wet center. She quickly rubbed the juices over the dildo and leaned forward, pressing the cock slowly into Miranda, just halfway in at first, then out, a little farther, then out, then finally all the way in, causing Miranda to inhale sharply and lock eyes with Andrea. In this position, their clits pressed into one another, Andrea's dark hair mingling with Miranda's glistening grays. Andrea kept thrusting and leaned forward even further, draping her body over Miranda's speechless form. Miranda instinctively wrapped her legs around Andrea, crossing them at her lower back. Andrea bent down and began sucking on Miranda's neck, her hands firmly planted on either side of her body. Miranda's moans grew louder and her breath quickened as she arched her back and met Andrea's rhythm thrust for thrust.

"Oh—oh!" Miranda shouted, "so close!"

Andrea took Miranda's earlobe in her mouth, then whispered, "Come for me, Miranda, come for me."

"Oh god," Miranda screamed, "Andreeeeaaa!" Andrea could feel Miranda's muscles clenching the dildo inside her as Miranda's orgasm ripped through her body. Andrea continued to kiss Miranda's neck until her breathing returned to normal. Andrea let her body rest on top of Miranda's feeling her breasts press against Miranda's hardened nipples through the silk gown. She leaned back a bit to pull the dildo out of Miranda's core, but Miranda reached an arm around Andrea's body, stopping her, holding her in place.

"That was," Miranda began slowly, her voice rough, "the best orgasm I've ever had." She paused for a moment, still gathering her thoughts. "I don't—What?—Why?—"

Andrea smiled at Miranda's stammering. "Because I love you, Miranda Priestly, and I will do anything for you." Andrea said before she pressed her lips to Miranda's.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Andrea pressed her lips to Miranda's, attempting for the second time in her life to kiss Miranda Priestly. Miranda moaned into the kiss, allowing Andrea's tongue to begin exploring her mouth. After several minutes, Miranda broke this kiss and pushed Andrea off of her.

"Andrea," Miranda said breathlessly, as she unwrapped her legs from Andrea's waist, "I need to get up, please."

The young woman sat up and slowly pulled the dildo out of Miranda's body as Miranda sharply inhaled at the loss of contact. Miranda climbed off the couch, her night gown cascading down to her ankles as she walked out of the den and up the staircase.

Andrea pulled the dildo out and went to the kitchen in search of a papertowel to wrap it in before returning it to her bag. Her mind was racing. It was exhilarating to have been so intimate with Miranda, such a change from the cold, distant encounters they've had in the past. But, she couldn't tell how Miranda felt. Unsure whether to leave or wait for Miranda, Andrea slowly put her trench back on and headed towards the door.

"Leaving so soon?" Miranda asked, standing at the top of the staircase.

"Miranda! No, I—I was just—"

"Andrea, I suppose we have to talk. Come up here."

Without a word, Andrea turned and headed up the stairs, following Miranda into the study.

"Have a seat," Miranda said, motioning to the other chair in front of the fireplace. Miranda curled her legs underneath her. She was wearing her grey robe, and her hair was still damp, her face flushed. "Andrea, this cannot happen again."

"But, Miranda," Andrea protested. She wasn't even giving "this" a chance.

"I feared it would come to this, but I thought you understood." Miranda said as Andrea looked on questioningly. "You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?" Andrea shook her head. "Oh my, this might be worse than I thought."

Miranda took a deep breath. "Let me take a few steps back. When you started working for me, I was truly amazed at your sense of duty. You knew how ridiculous some of my requests more, but you did not once tell me to do it myself, or honestly, you never objected to anything. You practically killed yourself going above and beyond with each of my requests. I will admit that I was very impressed—of course I could not have let you see that. I began to trust you, Andrea, and I don't know that I actually trust anyone in the world. I liked having you by my side, and I could fell that you liked it too, despite how I was always sending you away on impossible errands. You were always so damn proud when you'd return. I wasn't quite sure what I could do with you. Promoting you to first assistant would not have changed a thing, considering you did both jobs most days anyway. You needed a greater challenge, but I couldn't bear to let you walk away so soon." Miranda paused and walked over to the bar. "Would you like a drink?"

"Yes, please," Andrea said as Miranda poured two glasses of an amber liquid. She returned, handing Andrea hers and taking a slow sip of her own.

"I thought maybe we could be friends, Andrea. Companions, in a sense. I'll admit now that I let things get a little out of hand, but in all honesty, I didn't know where to start with a friendship. I haven't had a friend since I was a child, and even then I probably didn't like her. Little things, like helping me dress or giving me a neck rub—that seemed like it would be so natural for two friends, and you certainly rose to the occasion. The day when I needed help with my vibrator in the office though, that was when I lost control. I tried to make a joke, Andrea, when we could not figure out how to replace the batteries, but you being so eager to please, did what you were told without question. And Andrea, it felt so good. I should have stopped you then, and I should not have kept putting you in that position. I couldn't even look at you while you were fucking me because I was sure I wouldn't be able to stand the anger in your eyes." Miranda took another drink.

"Miranda?" Andrea spoke quietly, taking advantage of the break. "Why did you think there would be anger in my eyes?"

"For the position I was putting you in, the intensity of the demands, how cold I had grown towards you, I don't know. Everyone has a look of anger in their eyes when they see me. I'm the Dragon Lady, or, what is it they've been saying lately, the Ice Queen? And when you kissed me the first time, I reacted out of instinct, and I apologize for that. I've always been in control of my body and most other things around me. Even with my husbands, I would tell them what they were permitted to do and when they could do it. But you, Andrea. You were so different from any of them, and with you I had some of the best sex of my life. For years I would occasionally pleasure myself in the bathroom before a particularly stressful meeting or something, but one time with you and I was addicted. I needed it more and more. I was even becoming careless." Miranda finished her drink and returned to the bar to pour herself another.

"It occurred to me that you might fall in love with me, out of some Oedipal perversion. But I would have expected you to say something long ago as you are quite vocal. I made the mistake of presuming you saw this for what it was, Andrea, but it appears otherwise. What I don't understand, though, is why you did it, why you continued satisfying me for months."

Miranda returned to her chair by the fireplace, her fingers circling the rim of her glass. Andrea had set her glass down on the small table between the two chairs, her head resting in her hands. "Miranda," Andrea said, not lifting her head, "this is really a lot to think about. I—I don't know what I can say right now. I—I need some time to think, some time away from you."

"I understand. Why don't you take tomorrow off, then you'll have a three-day weekend. If you need more time, we can figure something out." Miranda reached over and covered Andrea's hand on the armrest. "Please, Andrea, I do wish to speak further about this…whenever you're ready."

Andrea gave a soft smile and stood from her chair. Her legs were shaky and she leaned on the chair for support before heading downstairs. "I'm calling you a cab, Andrea. It's too late for you to wander the streets like this." Miranda said, following Andrea down the stairs.

"No, you don't have to."

"Yes, I do. You are a part of my life. You mean…I don't know…something…to me, and I will not have your safety jeopardized."

Andrea shrugged and stepped out the door. "I'm going to wait outside, if you don't mind."

Miranda nodded and watched her assistant outside from her front window. "I'm so sorry, Andrea," Miranda whispered, finally letting the tears fall down her face.

Andrea returned to her apartment that night in a daze. She did not have to work until Monday, and the last time she checked, it was still Thursday night. Making sure the door was locked behind her, she walked began stripping her clothes as she headed for the shower. Hot water streaming down her face, her mind finally took in the weight of Miranda's words.

Miranda knew what she was doing. She knew she took it too far, but she kept doing. She assumed Andrea as on the same page, whatever page that was. And now, she was sorry. Despite that, she knew from the start that Miranda was calculating and manipulative, willing to discard anything at the drop of a hat for her own gain.

And yet, Andrea thought, Miranda said she was _addicted_ to it. She closed her eyes because she didn't want to see anger in Andrea's eyes. What would she have rather seen, Andrea wondered. Did she say she had wanted to be _friends_ before all this started? Andrea's mind was reeling, and she decided to get some rest and spend the next day thinking it over.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

It was noon on Friday morning when Andrea woke up to the sound of her cell phone. There was a text message from Doug: "So, how'd it go last night? ;)" Andrea flopped back down on the bed. "Oh god," she said aloud and dialed Doug's number.

"Hey Sweetheart, what's up? Did you tame the dragon last night or what?"

"Um, sort of, I guess. But listen, I'd rather talk about this in person if you don't mind?"

"Sure! When do you get off for lunch? Or would you rather me come meet you after everyone leaves?"

"Actually, I'm at home. I can meet you any time."

"Oh gosh, Andy, did she—?"

"No, no, it wasn't like that. She gave me a day or two off. Is Cafe Marmalade okay? In, say, an hour?"

"Yep, see you there sweetheart." Doug said before ending the call.

Andrea quickly applied some light makeup and threw on a pair of Se7en jeans, a screenprinted top with a Calvin Klein blazer and her favorite old Coach riding boots.

At the cafe, Andrea told Doug everything about her night at Miranda's. "Okay, Andy, let's take a step back." Doug said.

"Do you love Miranda?"

"Yes," Andrea answered without hesitation.

"Could you forgive her for what happened?"

"Yes," Andrea answered again.

"Do you believe Miranda when she said she wanted to be friends, that she didn't intend for it to get out of control?"

"Yes, of course." Andrea said, "She didn't know she was hurting me. She was too concerned with herself. But she will always be like that. I should have known I needed to say something."

"No, Andy, do not start blaming yourself. If anything, it was mutual, but she is your boss. She is the one who should have known better, no matter who she is." Doug sighed. "Sweetheart, at some point you had to suspect she was using you…"

"Yeah. I guess it was the night when I dropped off the book and Miranda was with her boyfriend in the den. I heard her voice, and walked towards the den. She and I had been, um, seeing each other each night that week when I brought the Book, and I just assumed. The man was sitting in the chair, facing away from the doorway. Miranda was sitting on the floor at his feet, and her icy eyes met mine, wordlessly telling me to get lost. I ran out as quickly as I could. I guess that was the first time I realized that I was just some sort of toy to her. She had someone else in her life, someone she was devoting real attention to. I guess after that I just thought differently."

"So, what kept you from stopping things then?" Doug asked, patiently putting the pieces together for his friend.

"I guess—well I didn't want to upset her. I had a job to do. If she fired me for failing, then, then I wouldn't be able to get a job in publishing."

"What?"

"Doug, she promised me that after one year, I could get a job at any publication I wanted. She knows everybody, and with her personal recommendation, I can get a job at _The New Yorker _or something!" Andrea shouted, exasperated.

"Andy, calm down. I understand that, but you did put in your year and you're still with her. This is where it gets tricky. Any psychologist will say you cannot be held responsible for your feelings and actions towards Miranda during that time because she was your boss and you were her subordinate. She could fire you and ruin your future, so you did what she asked and convinced yourself that you wanted to do it, that you liked it, that you were doing your job, or whatever. But Andy, this doesn't look good. I'm your friend, so I'm on your side. I'm just warning you, that if this were to be in court for some reason, Miranda would be at fault, hands down."

"Doug, why would this ever go to court?!"

"It won't. Look, I'm just trying to get you to see the seriousness—that this isn't just my opinion."

"Okay. I get that. I get it that she had power over me and of course that influenced my behavior. But it was only why I didn't speak up. I acted because I genuinely enjoyed giving pleasure to Miranda Priestly. Doug, if you could hear her—it is the most beautiful sound in the world. And to see her with her head back, cheeks flushed, beads of sweat on her temples… why would anyone want to walk away from that?"

"Wow, okay, yeah that would be amazing. So, I guess the question is, do you still want to see her like that?"

"Oh god, yes. Last night she said was her best orgasm ever. And, she screamed out my name."

"Too much information, sweetheart!" Doug said, laughing. "But seriously now, what do you want to change?"

"I guess I just want her to respect me a little, acknowledge me, be considerate of my time and my, um, needs, too."

"So you want her to fuck you, too?"

"Basically, yes. But that's not a dealbreaker! I will take whatever she gives me."

"Oh Andy, baby, you can't act so desperate. Sure Miranda is one-of-a-kind, but there are a lot of other fish in the sea. If Miranda can't give you what you want, there will be someone else who can."

Andrea sighed. "I know, but a girl can hope, right?" she paused for a minute before adding, "I need to get back. But thanks for everything, Doug."

The two hugged tightly before heading out of the cafe. "Anytime, sweetheart. Whatever you need, just call me."

Andrea waved as she walked down the street, taking a long walk and ending up in Central Park, not far from Miranda's home. She found a nice grassy area and situated herself against a tree trunk as she pulled her notebook out of her bag and began drafting a letter to Miranda.

_Dear Miranda,_  
_Thank you for being so open with me last night and telling me the full story. I know how private you are, and I am very grateful that you took the time to share your thoughts. Miranda, first I need to say that I forgive you. I was overwhelmed, and yes, a little hurt, but I've had some time to think everything over and I genuinely believe you. If it's still on the table, I would very much like to start a friendship with you. I've learned so much from you, from observing you, I just think you're such an extraordinary woman, I'd be honored to call you a friend. But that means we would have to talk, have real conversations every now and then, because despite my superpowers, I cannot read your mind. As far as whatever else is going on between us, I think it best to take a few steps back and talk about it. I'm sure you're waiting for me to bring up what I said before I kissed you, and all I'll say right now is this: I meant every word. I've been in love with you since the night you cried in Paris. You showed me a very real, fragile, human side of yourself, and I've been devoted to you ever since. I do love you, Miranda Priestly. I hope to return to work on Monday morning, so if it is convenient for you, can we sit down and talk sometime this weekend? Name the time and place and I'll be there. _  
_Yours,_  
_Andrea xx_

Satisfied with the letter, Andrea carefully tore the sheet from her notebook, folded it, and wrote Miranda's name on the front. She walked across the park to Miranda's and slipped the letter in Miranda's mail slot, quickly walking away before she could be seen.

Before she even reached her apartment, Andrea's phone vibrated—a message from Miranda. "Thank you for the touching letter. I have a dinner party this evening, but how does tomorrow afternoon work, say 3pm? You are also welcome to stay for dinner then, too. MP"

Andrea smiled as she turned the block to her apartment, quickly writing back, "I'll be there. xx A"

She received one more text as she opened the door to her apartment, "I look forward to seeing you. Thank you for forgiving me—I hadn't realized how worried I was about that until you said it. Have a good evening. MP"

Content with her decisions, Andrea flopped on her couch and turned on the television, taking full advantage of her day off.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Saturday morning flew by. Andrea was due at Miranda's at 3pm, which meant she needed to leave her apartment shortly. Sitting on her couch, she reread Miranda's texts and tried to remember the words of her letter, but she kept landing on Miranda's words: "I hadn't realized how worried I was about that until you said it." Miranda was worried Andrea would not forgive her. Could it be that Miranda actually felt _guilty_? Andrea quickly dismissed the idea and went to her closet to select an outfit to wear to Miranda's. She opted for leggings and a charcoal grey sweater, then headed out the door.

Miranda sat at her kitchen table, nervously awaiting Andrea's arrival. The letter from Andrea really did shock her—she thought for sure Andrea would run away and never come back, but Miranda kept reminding herself that forgiveness and wanting to be friends was not the same as forgetting it ever happened. She could not deal with the last part of the letter, that talk of _love_. On that, she thought, Andrea was deluded due to the situation she was put in.

Miranda knew that all too well—convincing yourself that you fit the role in order to avoid real feelings like shame and rejection. She did it with her two ex-husbands, and at some level, even with her colleagues. Her husbands wanted her to be a romantic, flirty, domestic _wife_, but Miranda Priestly was so much more. Instead of challenging her husbands, she let them shape her outside of work, and the result was a hollow cast of a woman. For decades, her colleagues have quipped that she's a "Dragon Lady" or that she breathes fire on anyone who does not meet her standards. Instead of challenging them, she let them define the editor and she tried to be what they expected: cold, judgmental, nonfeeling, aloof.

Yet, when she crawled into her cold bed each night after spending hours in the evening looking over the Book, she felt nothing except confusion. Her worlds were so far from each other, she didn't know who _she_ was, unless she was with her daughters. But they, like everyone else in her life, grew tired of her charades, the icy glares and unreasonable demands, and they, too moved out to live with their father. Only after spending time with Andrea did she feel something different. Was it security?…belonging? She didn't know, for she immediately squelched the feelings and removed herself from Andrea's presence as soon as she could.

But Thursday night as different, Miranda thought. Andrea had captured her attention and Miranda wasn't able to remove herself from the young girl's presence. Moreover, she didn't want to. She wanted to stay wrapped in Andrea's arms, and for once, just let herself be, stripped of the masks, the couture, the flames and just be Miranda.

It was unnerving that she felt she could be this way around her _second_ assistant. The girl had not even lived a quarter-century, while she had two husbands, one divorce, two children, and rose to the position of editor-in-chief of a leading fashion magazine before Andrea finished high school. No, she could not do this to Andrea. She could not use the young woman to help herself. Andrea deserved better, someone who could love her like she deserves, someone who could be loved in return.

Love. Miranda sighed and began to pace her entryway. It was 2:40pm, where was Andrea? She did say 3pm, right? Sighing again, she ran her fingers through her hair. Love is for the masses, she thought. The all-too-human people who try and fail on a daily basis, who love each other for trying and support each other when they don't succeed. Love heals wounded spirits and damaged egos. Love is not for the rich and powerful. Love only offers us opportunities for mergers or inheritance. Love is idealistic, the exact opposite of the true reality we face everyday: deciding the fate of a designer, choosing next season's accessory, or crippling the financial market. No, Miranda thought, Love cannot live in my world.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Though she was only in the hallway a few short meters from the door, Miranda ran on her tiptoes to answer it.

"Hi, Miranda," Andrea said with a smile. She attempted to make eye contact but quickly looked away when she saw Miranda was not returning her gaze.

"Please, come in. Thank you, again, for your willingness to talk," Miranda said quietly, leading Andrea into the house.

"Miranda, you don't have to thank me, really. I wanted to come. I want to talk to you."

"Mmm. Shall we go upstairs?" Miranda asked.

"Umm—" Andrea wasn't sure what Miranda was asking—did she want to take her to her _bedroom_ so soon?

"Upstairs to the study," Miranda corrected, sensing Andrea's uneasiness. "Will that be suitable?"

"Oh, yes, of course, Miranda." Andrea said as she followed the woman upstairs, trying not to stare at her ass as she followed her up. Miranda had opted for casual dress, too, wearing what looked like silk/cashmere blend drawstring pants from with a fitted solid black longsleeve shirt. The pants were too long with Miranda barefoot, and she was walking around on tiptoes to compensate. Andrea couldn't help but smile at how cute that was.

"Andrea?" she asked as the young girl stopped before entering the room. "Is everything alright?"

Andrea smiled and followed Miranda to the large leather sofa by the window. "Yes, I'm fine," she said, sitting down at the opposite end from Miranda, "it's just that you are walking on your tiptoes…and I think it's cute."

Miranda glared up at her, her eyebrow raised. "_Cute_, Andrea?"

Andrea blushed, "Yes. _Cute."_

Miranda sighed. This was going to be a much more difficult conversation than she thought. Disregarding the comment, she moved on. "Andrea, I need to be clear with you. We can no longer continue to—I mean—You cannot—well," Miranda stammered, trying to find the right words. "Sex, Andrea. It cannot happen anymore."

"Miranda, 'sex' doesn't happen, it's not passive," Andrea corrected her with a smirk on her face.

Miranda was considerably flustered. "Well, okay then, _you_ cannot continue to fulfill my sexual requests, and _I _cannot continue to request that of you. Better?"

"Look, Miranda, I get it. It was wrong. Taboo. Irresponsible. Manipulative—"

"By all means, keep listing every adjective you can think of," Miranda droned, closing her eyes and trying not to relive the past few months.

"Sorry," Andy said bashfully. "But I get that you're ashamed of what you did, and I think you probably even feel guilty about it, particularly because I was naive and you otherwise took advantage of that."

Miranda glared at Andrea again, but this time, Andrea thought she saw something like defeat in her eyes.

"Miranda, I want to start over. Start fresh. Let's try to be friends and see where that takes us."

"Andrea, I cannot do that."

"Why not?"

"Because, Andrea. You deserve someone better than me, you're so young and trusting, you're just too good to be associated with someone like me."

"I would hope you would at least trust me to make some decisions for myself, Miranda. I'm not blind. There are plenty of people I choose not to associate myself with. But you, Miranda, you are better than good. And I don't say that because you can jumpstart my career. I genuinely like you."

"Andrea," Miranda said, standing to rise from the couch, "perhaps you will understand this in twenty years, when I'm seventy-five and you're in your early forties…"

"No way. Miranda, tell me what's going on. Two days ago I gave you the best orgasm of your life and today you are pushing away my friendship. You can hardly even look at me, Miranda. I suppose you're going to fire me now as well, no?"

"No, no. It's not like that," Miranda said, sinking back into the couch, her head in her hands. "Andrea, please. I would—I very much want to be friends with you, but there is so much you don't understand about me. I'm damaged, Andrea. I don't even know who I am anymore, I'm so busy pleasing others to save my skin or get ahead. And," Miranda added quietly, "I am not worthy of your love."

She did all she could to keep the tears from falling as Andrea sat and watched the broken woman's walls begin to fall. Andrea, too, had tears in her eyes as she reached a hand out and placed it on Miranda's knee.

Miranda's tears grew worse, her sobs louder as she curled her knees up to her chest. Andrea moved closer to Miranda on the couch and wrapped her arms entirely around Miranda, softly running her fingers through her hair, whispering quietly into her ear that everything was okay.

Miranda eventually relaxed into Andrea's arms, and they stayed like that for some time.

"Andrea?" Miranda whispered, not moving from her position against the younger woman's chest.

"Yes?"

"I should make you leave…but I don't want to. I want to stay like this."

Andrea pulled Miranda closer and softly kissed the top of her head. "And I don't want to go, so that's settled."

"If only it were that easy, darling."

"What did you say?" Andrea asked, turning to look at Miranda.

"I said, 'if only it were that easy,'" Miranda repeated, puzzled.

"You said 'darling'—"

"I most certainly did not!" Miranda said, sitting up and pulling away from her.

"Wait, wait, where are you going? Fine, I must have been hearing things."

"Andrea, this is what I'm talking about. I don't want you to start being like me. Stop being so damn eager to please."

"Whoa, whoa, where is this coming from?"

"Be honest. The first time you touched me, in my office bathroom that day, did you actually want to touch me or did you do it because I told you to?"

Andrea was shocked at Miranda's quick change of subject. "Um, okay. Honestly, that day, when you told me to—you know—I was horrified. One of the first things I was taught was that 'one never touches Miranda Priestly' and here you asked me to touch you sexually. But, I knew that if I didn't do it, you would probably fire me, and I would lose any chance at getting a job in journalism or publishing. So, I did it because you told me."

Miranda sighed. "See? You became something you're not, just to fit my expectations of you. Andrea, you are better than that and I'm so sorry for ever doing that to you." Miranda stood and headed towards the doorway. "You can leave now. I can assure you there will be no repercussions—"

"No, Miranda, this is not over. Let me speak. That day, the first time you asked me to, uh, finger you, I was scared. But seeing you come, knowing I did that to you and feeling what you did to me—my god, Miranda, I wanted nothing more. I wanted to see more of you, touch more of you, watch you come over and over again. God, Miranda, I like _men_, but you, being with you surpassed any of my wildest fantasies. But, I eventually realized you wouldn't touch me. You wouldn't look at me. You had no desire to reciprocate. I had to cross my legs or sneak into the bathroom and crush my clit against my palm after being with you. _That's why_ it was becoming too much, Miranda."

Miranda returned to the couch to sit down, her face expressionless, her posture stiff. In a weak voice, barely audible, she said, "I _did_ desire, but I…I can't." Miranda quickly stood and walked out of the room, leaving Andrea alone in the study.

TBC

a/n: sorry i can't update that quickly during the week— i hope you like it and continue to r/r! i really appreciate it! xx k


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Andrea was speechless. Did Miranda just admit that maybe her feelings weren't as one-sided as she thought? Why, then, did she say she _can't_? Determined to find her answer, Andrea left the room in search of the perplexing older woman.

Stepping out of the study, Andrea realized that she hadn't seen much of Miranda's house, aside from the rooms she had been explicitly invited into. She wandered downstairs and checked the dining room, den, and kitchen for Miranda but she was not there. Andrea headed back upstairs and saw the door cracked open in the room next to the study. Realizing it was Miranda's office, and that Miranda was not in there, Andrea quickly turned around. The only other room on that floor was at the opposite end of the hallway. Andrea lightly rapped on the door before opening it, but it was an empty bedroom. The room was quite large, but unfurnished and lacking decoration. Thinking it was probably Stephen's room, she decided to try upstairs. She knew the girls' rooms had been on the fourth floor, because they told her that once when she was delivering the book. When she reached the third floor, Andrea looked around but only saw one door. She approached the door, and as she was about to knock, she faintly heard Miranda's crying.

"Miranda?" Andrea called through the door, which she quickly realized was locked. "Please don't cry. Let me in. We can talk." Andrea said, adding, "I won't make you do anything you don't want to do." It was a longshot, but maybe Miranda was nervous or something.

"Andrea, go home."

"Not happening, Miranda. Open the door."

"Andrea, please."

"I will sit here until Monday morning, Miranda. Your choice. I will not leave you like this."

Miranda said nothing as she reluctantly stood and unlocked the door. Andrea heard the lock turn but waited a few moments before turning the knob and entering. Miranda was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands pressed into the mattress at her sides, her head hanging down. Andrea approached the bed and softly asked, "May I?" before sitting next to Miranda.

"Miranda," Andrea began.

"Wait. Let me," Miranda said, interrupting. "I owe you an explanation."

"Miranda, you owe me nothing."

"Hear me out," Miranda said. Andrea nodded and Miranda began again. "Andrea, this is not about you. Don't think that I do not want you, because I do, very much. But I can't give you what you want. I…just can't."

"Miranda, it's okay," Andrea said, covering Miranda's hand on the bed with her own. "We can work on it. You—you are what I want. I want to be here for you, to take care of you, to love you."

"Stop it. Do not use that word, _love_," Miranda said, hissing. "I am not _love_-able. And I cannot _love_, I cannot give you what you want."

"Miranda, you're wrong. You _are_ lovable. And I know you're capable—you do have two daughters—"

"—who no longer live with me. They moved out almost a year ago. And my husbands? I couldn't love them the way they wanted me to. I—I couldn't touch them. My first husband, he wanted me to touch him so badly, I was constantly making up excuses until I told him I'd rather be tied up. The twins, they were conceived using invitro, even though I was perfectly capable. I lied to James so he wouldn't focus so much on me."

Miranda paused for a moment, and Andrea squeezed her hand, "I'm so sorry, Miranda, I never knew—"

"Don't be sorry. Of course you didn't know. No one knows. Stephen tied me up too, and it was fine for a while, but he began to want sex outside of our bedroom, and he couldn't figure out why I wouldn't touch him. So, he found someone else to touch him."

"Miranda," Andrea asked cautiously, "did something happen to you that you developed this neurosis?"

"My god, you sound just like my shrink," Miranda said. "No, nothing. Do you think I'd go on living like this if I knew why I was doing it?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to suggest—I mean—have you tried—rather, what have you tried?"

"Tried? Everything. The closest I've ever been to touching someone was the other day, when you were about to leave."

"Sorry if this is obvious, but have you ever _wanted to _touch someone before?"

"Of course—" Miranda began, stopping herself and looking up at Andrea. "Actually," she paused as blush began to creep up her face, "no, I don't think I have ever wanted anyone like that—that is, like you."

Andrea smiled, but didn't want to get ahead of herself. "Not to point out the obvious again, but—"

"But maybe it's my choice of partner and not me?" Miranda interrupted. "I've had many partners aside from my two husbands, Andrea. Please, don't think I didn't try every shape and size." Miranda added in a low voice, "That does not leave this room."

"Of course. But have you ever been with a woman?"

"Andrea, I am a straight woman. I have ex-husbands, children for christ's sake."

"And that doesn't mean you can't also be bisexual. So you've never given it a try?"

"No! Have you?"

"Once. In college. My best friend and I had a threesome with a guy whose house we were staying at. We were far more interested in each other than with him. But now she's happily married to Luke, the love of her life."

"So, what you're saying is—?" Miranda questioned

"That you should try it. Only you knows what feels right and what doesn't. I don't want to pressure you, either." Andrea said, leaning closer to Miranda and lifting her chin with her finger.

Miranda stared into Andrea's deep brown eyes and wondered what Andrea looked like when she came, what her moans sounded like. Andrea could see the desire pooling in Miranda's eyes as her pupils began to dilate, her lids growing heavy.

"Will you—Can you—please—?" Miranda struggled to put words to her request. She wanted Andrea to touch her, but she feared being too demanding.

"Would you like me to touch you, Miranda?" Andrea asked. Miranda nodded eagerly as Andrea slid her hands down Miranda's body and pulled back up, lifting Miranda's shirt off and over her head.

"Would you like me to kiss you, Miranda?" Again, Miranda nodded eagerly as Andrea pressed two fingers to Miranda's lips and began trailing kisses down her neck, her arms, her breasts, and her abdomen. Miranda's breathing was growing more rapid.

"Would you like me to lick you, Miranda?" This time, Miranda moaned as she nodded. Andrea proceeded to lick and kiss Miranda's body, paying special attention to the soft skin behind her ears.

"Would you like me to undress you, Miranda?" Miranda silently nodded as Andrea reached down and slowly untied the drawstring on Miranda's pants, sliding them down her legs. Andrea pushed Miranda backwards and onto the bed, lavishing her body with her tongue and mouth.

"Do you want me to kiss you _here_?" Andrea asked as she pressed her hand firmly to Miranda's center, feeling the wet silk of her underwear.

"Ohh, yes," Miranda replied, blushing and reaching her hand up to cover her mouth at her recent outburst.

"Don't hold it in, Miranda," Andrea said as she slipped Miranda's panties off. "Let me hear what I do to you." Andrea bent down and pressed her cool lips to Miranda's hot core. Her tongue fluttered against Miranda's clitoris and Miranda began breathing rapidly as she moaned. After several minutes, Andrea sat up and began thrusting her fingers into Miranda's body.

"Miranda, open your eyes," Andrea whispered. Miranda shook her head and held her eyes tightly shut. With her free hand, Andrea pulled Miranda's bra down and began licking and sucking on her nipples. Miranda arched into Andrea's mouth. The young woman reached for Miranda's hand resting on the bed and slowly brought it up to her own head. She held Miranda's hand there for a while as she continued to lick and suck on her breasts, eventually feeling Miranda apply pressure to hold her head in place.

Andrea smiled and worked her way back up to Miranda's mouth. Her body was crushing Miranda's as her fingers pumped in and out. Andrea flicked her thumb across Miranda's clitoris as she brushed her lips against Miranda's and she felt Miranda's body stiffen as she let out a low moan. Andrea reached for Miranda's hand and intertwined their fingers as she rode out her orgasm.

"It's okay, I'm here," Andrea said soothingly as she waited for Miranda to regain normal breathing and open her eyes. Andrea placed light kisses on her temple and her cheeks before moving to lay next to Miranda on the bed. At the loss of contact, Miranda opened her eyes, full of fear.

"Miranda, that was amazing." Andrea said, smiling brightly.

"But—you still have your clothes on," she said, her voice turning to a whisper, "nothing changed, did it?"

"Miranda, please, nothing will change overnight. You touched me, though. You held my hand, and you had your hand in my hair. I know you can do this."

"Why does this feel like a fucking pep talk?"

"I'm sorry, I'm just trying to be supportive." Andrea blushed slightly before asking, "Would you mind if I stepped into the bathroom for a moment?" She was aching so badly, but didn't want to make Miranda uncomfortable.

"Stay with me," Miranda said, patting the space on the bed next to her. "Do it here."

"Really? Um, Miranda, I don't want to pressure—"

"I can make my own decisions, thank you. Discard your clothing."

Andrea quickly nodded as she pulled the sweater over her head and removed her leggings and socks. She was wearing an emerald satin and lace thong and matching bra from La Perla, but she feared her panties were ruined because they were already so wet. Miranda motioned to the bed once more, so Andrea lay on her back and pressed two fingers to her throbbing core. Miranda inhaled sharply. "I—I can smell you," Miranda said, curiously.

"I'm sure you can. Would you like a taste?" Andrea asked, dipping her fingers in her own juices and offering her fingers to Miranda.

Again, Miranda deeply inhaled before reaching her tongue out to lick Andrea's fingers clean. Either this is not her first time, or she's spent some time watching lesbian porn, Andrea thought to herself. She was so turned on by Miranda licking her fingers, she felt like she would explode. Andrea quickly slipped her fingers—those that Miranda had licked—back into her core and began circling until she was just about to come.

Andrea reached up and took Miranda's right hand and laid it over her own as she pressed four fingers against her clitoris. Within seconds, her muscles began to quiver and waves coursed over her body.

"That was amazing," Andrea said. "Thank you, Miranda." Miranda nodded and Andrea curled up next to her on the bed. She draped her arm and leg over Miranda's body, her genitals pressing directly into Miranda's upper thigh. Kissing Miranda's cheek, Andrea lay her head on the older woman's shoulder and closed her eyes.

TBC

hope you like it- thanks so much for the reviews!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Miranda stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep, with Andrea's naked body draped over her own. Slowly and quietly Miranda crawled out of bed, placing a pillow in her place, which the young woman quickly wrapped herself around. Miranda pulled her robe around her and headed down to her office. Curled up on the couch, she picked up the telephone and dialed James' house. She knew it was practically the middle of the night, but she just needed to hear a familiar voice, to talk to her daughters or something.

After many unanswered rings, James finally came to the phone, breathless, "Hello? Who is this?"

"James, hello."

"Miranda? I…uh…wasn't expecting your call"

"No, I, um, guess it is rather, um, late. I'll call back later—I know it was a long shot, but I had hopes that one of the girls would be awake."

"They're both asleep. Miranda, is everything okay? You don't sound like yourself."

Hmph! Miranda exclaimed. "And how would you know?"

"Randi, come on. I've known you for twenty years…."

"Listen, it's nothing. I'm sorry I phoned. I can call back to talk to the girls this afternoon."

"I don't think you've ever apologized to me before. Now I _know_ something is wrong. Come on, Sunshine, you can talk to me."

"_Sunshine_?" Miranda hissed.

"You know I still have that pink post-it note. You wrote 'You are my sunshine :)' in pencil and handed it to me when you were sitting with me in the library when I was studying for my law exams."

"My god…" Miranda exhaled, a smile creeping along her face, "who knew you were such a sentimentalist?"

"Well, you're not exactly easy to forget, Randi."

"We did have such fun together, didn't we?"

"I fell in love with you all over again, every single day. Until the girls were born." James said, whispering the last part under his breath.

Miranda sighed. "I don't think I ever apologized to you for that, Jim. I was so scared—and I mean, truly terrified—and here I was with two newborns and I couldn't even bear to hold them. I was such a horrible mother—"

"No, you can't do this to yourself. You got through it, and the girls will never know the difference."

"Oh please, that's exactly why they moved in with you," Miranda snapped.

"I will not speak for them, but I can see that they miss you, Randi. It makes me miss you."

Miranda was speechless. What was James implying? Before she could speak, James continued. "I miss holding you, sitting next to you in the car, making love to you."

Miranda's breath hitched. "Oh, Jim, you don't mean that. I was a terrible wife, in so many ways. You deserve so much better."

"Baby, I looked for something better after we split. After a few very nice women, I realized there never would be anything better than you."

"But Jim, we just didn't work. I was not right for you. I—I couldn't please you, don't you remember all that?"

James did not respond immediately. Instead, they listened to each other's silence on the phone. "Randi, don't say that. It was both of our faults that it didn't work. I was not as supportive of your career as I should have been. I was also very demanding of other things back then, too, and unwilling to help you through…to support you." He paused again, and hearing his ex-wife's tears through the telephone line, he pressed on. "Do you remember how we went window-shopping at Christmas that one day in the snowstorm? You were pregnant but not showing yet, and you were horny as hell. I couldn't find you in Bergdorf's and out of nowhere you pulled me into this hidden area in the shoe salon. My god, Miranda, we were crazy for each other." He paused once more before adding, "I still love you, you know?"

Miranda's breath hitched. "Wh—What? No, no, that cannot be. You deserve so much more. Someone who can love you back. Someone worthy of your love."

"Randi, what are you talking about? Even when you're crazy, I still love you. I will until the day I die."

"But Jim, you can't love me. I don't deserve that, especially from you."

James was growing frustrated. "Was this what it was all about—back then? The touching and everything?"

Miranda closed her eyes and took another deep breath. "Yes. I—I didn't deserve your love or kindness. There were times when I wanted you so badly, Jim, but, it was like my brain wasn't connected to my body. I wanted to wrap my arms around you, but I was frozen."

"Baby, why didn't you say something?"

"I just thought it was a sign of us not fitting. It is only recently that I've learned otherwise."

"Oh," James said. "Miranda, can I ask you something?—did you ever want to touch me?"

"Oh god, yes. I thought there was something wrong with me physically because I would panic when faced with it."

"Do you touch your boyfriend Nathan?"

"What?!" Miranda shouted. "Who told you that? That is not true. I haven't had sex in years."

"So, is this going to be a habit now, calling me from your bed in the middle of the night?

"Jim, don't do this—" Miranda protested.

"No, Miranda. I won't. But if you try to tell me next week that your new boyfriend is the love of your life and has changed everything, I won't be in your corner. And remember who the girls live with."

"It's not like that," Miranda began, desperately wanting to work her way into her daughters' good graces by whatever means possible. "I still want you in my life. You are the girls' father, and I—I miss them so much." Miranda said before breaking into tears again. "I'm a failure as a parent."

"Baby, the girls love you. Don't doubt that."

"But everyone I try to love walks away from me…because they eventually realize it will always be one-sided."

"Please don't doubt yourself. You are a brilliant, sexy, witty, gorgeous, adorable woman, Miranda. Yes, you have some control issues, but you are also incredibly vulnerable and human. Anyone who really knows you can see that, and I would bet he loves you even more, knowing you allow him to see that."

"She, _her_." Miranda corrected.

"Excuse me?"

"You said 'I would bet _he _loves you'—I'm correcting you. _She."_

"You—you're—" James stammered. "No shit, Miranda. Now it all makes sense!"

"Please enlighten me, James."

"It wasn't me at all. You just preferred—uh, well, the other stuff."

"I suppose so. Although I would have never thought it until recently."

"Do I know the lucky lady? Some famous model? Actress, maybe?"

"She's not famous, but you might know her. She is my assistant, Andrea…or 'Andy' as the girls liked to call her."

"You and _Ahn-drey-uh_?" James asked. "Well I guess I don't even need to ask how that began."

"Please don't. It's an unfortunate story." Miranda said, her voice heavy with regret.

"And now she's upstairs in your bed?"

"Yes."

"What did you do?"

"Me? I haven't done anything yet. And Andrea, well, she's done plenty."

"Did you touch her?"

"A little."

"Tell me, would you touch _me_?" James said, relaxing in his bed, tossing the covers back and pulling his dick out of his boxers.

"I—I don't understand."

"Now, if you could do it all over, would you touch me, Randi?" James asked, his voice an octave lower than it had been.

"Oh," Miranda exclaimed, realizing what he was asking. It wouldn't hurt to have a little phone sex with her ex-husband, right? He is her daughters' father, Miranda reasoned internally. "Yes, yes I would. I wish I was there right now," Miranda purred.

"Uhh," he groaned, "baby, keep talking."

"If I was there with you, I would be straddling you, my hands running up and down your strong chest. I'd snake my way down your body, trailing kisses from your earlobe to your waist. And then, I'd kneel in front of you and take you in my hands, softly stroking. Does it feel good, Jimmy?"

"Ohhh god—yes, fuck!" James shouted.

"Good, very good, keep doing it" Miranda purred. "Then I'd bend down and kiss you, tasting you, running my tongue up and down your shaft until my mouth opened into a perfect circle. I would run my hands up and down the back of your thighs and pull you into my mouth as I gently began to suck." Miranda paused, hearing muffled sounds on the line. "Are you there Jimmy? Will you come for me? I can't seem to keep my hands off you."

Miranda heard Jim scream into the phone as he came, apparently hard, judging by how long it took him to recover.

"God, Miranda, that was spectacular."

"Mmm," she murmured.

"I had no idea what I was in for when I answered that phone, did I?" James said, laughing.

"Yes, well, we did get a bit off-topic, no?" Miranda said with a smile. "But I really must go before she wakes up."

"Back to Andrea?"

"Yes."

"I would say to tell her I said hello, but that might not be appropriate."

"No, certainly not. But please do tell the girls I called. And that I do love them."

"Yes, Miranda, I will. You should tell your assistant that, too," he added. "And actually, I think the girls would support that 100%."

"Really?!"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well then, goodnight, James."

"Goodnight, Miranda."

Miranda hung up the phone and tossed it on the couch next to her. She pulled her robe tighter and curled more deeply into the couch, imagining Andrea and her daughters both happy at the same time. A creak in the floor suddenly jolted her from her dreamlike state, causing her to turn towards the door and see Andrea standing at the doorframe.

"Andrea! You scared me!" Miranda said as Andrea approached the couch, Miranda's smile fading as she noticed Andrea's concerned expression.

"Yeah. I just heard noises and woke up and you weren't there."

"I was hoping to reach the girls, but they were asleep."

"—so you helped your boyfriend _Jim _get off instead. I know." Andrea said as she sat at the other end of the couch.

Miranda gasped. "How long were you standing there? That is very rude, Andrea, to eavesdrop like that."

"I know. It doesn't matter, does it? Because I heard enough." Andrea said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"No, no, darling, you didn't hear enough. I was speaking with my first ex-husband, James. You missed me crying to him and telling him how lonely I'd been, how I regretted treating you so awfully, how unworthy I've felt of love in the past, mostly because I cannot reciprocate. You also happened to miss me telling him that I was hopeful. That things were different now, that you were not 'a new boyfriend' as he suggested, but a beautiful young woman, for whom I happen to care a great deal." Miranda sighed, "You missed ALL of that."

"I didn't think you were that close with him," Andrea said, confused.

"Lately, I really haven't been. But I have known him for twenty years, and we see each other regularly because of the girls. He is a good man and deserves so much better. It pains me to see that his wounds from our marriage still haven't healed." Miranda sighed, "But it was very good speaking with him tonight. I think—I think I actually needed it."

"Oh of course, phone sex is always good and needed." Andrea spat out.

Miranda was taken aback by the harshness of Andrea's words. "Tonight I apologized to Jim for the first time. We talked about the good times of our marriage, and I told him that I was beginning to care very deeply for you. He was supportive. I needed that, Andrea. I have nobody." Miranda paused, "And the other part, well he started and it was very much one sided, as you most likely heard. I told him what he needed to hear—what he's been waiting twenty years to hear."

"But Jesus, Miranda!"

"I owed him at least that. I had never been able to touch him in the way he craved. I couldn't even talk dirty to him. But now, I'm—I don't know—not pressured or something. It just feels different."

Miranda crawled closer to Andrea on the couch and wrapped her arms around the young woman, pulling her into an embrace.

Any other time, Andrea would have been ecstatic that Miranda wanted to cuddle, but right now, she felt like she had been cheated on and used, even if Miranda's explanation did make sense. Andrea turned her head and pushed Miranda off her chest.

Miranda's heart sank as she felt the young woman push her away.

"Miranda, I need to go. I will see you at work tomorrow," Andrea said as she stood and walked towards the doorway. She glanced back and Miranda looked absolutely pathetic. Andrea shrugged her shoulders and said, "I need to think about this. I don't want to be your plaything."

Moments later, Miranda heard her front door open and shut as the early morning silence enveloped her house.

TBC

thanks for all the reviews-they really help! i had to take some time off when i was sick, but now i'm back, so expect more updates soon! xoxo


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thank you for reviewing-it helps! I apologize if this took an unexpected turn...that's kind of like life, i guess. thanks for sticking with me!

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Chapter 8

"Seriously, FUCK happy endings!" Andrea shouted to herself as she walked home from Miranda's. "I'm so fucking stupid!" she screamed, grateful that very few people were on the street at dawn on a Sunday morning.

As Andrea walked nearly three miles back to her apartment on the other side of town, her anger began to dissipate, hurt and loneliness taking its place. Am I wrong to think Miranda's behavior was out of line, she wondered. We never were dating or exclusive or anything, so I really didn't have any right to be upset, but god, Andrea thought, I've never felt such jealous rage in my life. I can't believe I was so stupid to try to make this more than it was. I was her toy. She takes what she wants and then moves on. I just thought that I would be different, that she could possibly love me. Andrea shook her head, but then what? Happy ever after? Never quite works that way, does it?

Her mind raced as she climbed the steps to her apartment, eager for a hot shower to rid herself of Miranda's scent. Once clean and in fresh clothes, Andrea brushed on some light makeup and decided to stop in the office. Since she was off for the past few days, she surely had an inbox full of mail and things she could prepare for tomorrow.

On the subway, she tried as hard as she could to block out any images of Miranda, and did so with moderate success. Elias-Clarke, though, was a totally different story. The lobby was swarming with people. Andrea saw that they had just installed a plaque with Miranda's face engraved on it. What did she earn, biggest bitch in the building? Andrea wondered. Gliding past security and into an elevator, she pressed 18 and closed her eyes as the elevator took her to _Runway. _

The office was silent, and Andrea knew that no one else would be there that early on a Sunday if there wasn't a shoot scheduled. As she approached her desk, she picked up a scent that was distinctly Miranda and it made her head swirl. Her body wanted to lounge in that scent forever, but in her mind, it only triggered painful, fresh memories of her beautiful boss.

Sitting at her desk and turning the computer on, she realized she would need to hand in her two weeks' notice. Staying here, working for Miranda, would be impossible under the given conditions. After quickly answering a few urgent emails and retrieving some items from the closet for Miranda's meeting Monday morning, Andrea opened up her word processor and began to type her resignation.

_Ms. Priestly and _Runway _staff:_

_Please accept this resignation as my two weeks' notice of employment. I have learned a great deal from my time here, but after nearly two years as an assistant, I feel it is right for me to pursue my future career in journalism. I will have any necessary items transferred to Emily or whomever you wish by the 30th. _

_Sincerely,_

_Andrea Sachs_

Andrea stared at the letter on her screen. What if Miranda didn't give her a recommendation to move on? What if she couldn't find a new job in two weeks? Before panic fully set in, Andrea decided to print the letter out and leave it for Miranda personally on her desk rather than emailing it. She printed a copy and placed it in one of Miranda's pressed cotton envelopes. No name needed on the envelope, she thought. It was the only item on Miranda's pristine desk, and if she recognized Andrea's handwriting, she might not open it.

Taking a deep breath, she returned to her own desk and decided to brush up her resume and scout out some openings at local publications. It was always her dream to be a chase-down-the-lead kind of journalist, but after her time at _Runway, _she was happy to work on the schedule of a monthly publication, like a magazine. But not _this_ magazine, she thought.

Her resume complete, she printed several copies to keep on hand if she should have the opportunity to beg anyone for a job in the next two weeks. A quick perusal of journalism job openings in NYC showed very little hope, aside from a small paper known as the _Mirror_. She quickly turned her attention to some of the hottest local blogs and decided to start her own, and possibly freelance.

After Miranda heard the door shut, she curled up tightly into the couch. The realization that Andrea had just walked out the door, and likely out of her life, was too much for Miranda, and she slipped into a catatonic state. No one alive today was aware of this about Miranda, but she had a very difficult time dealing with emotions like guilt, disappointment, and failure. While she was quick to anger in the workplace, she often used anger or condescension as a coping mechanism to push out the unwanted feelings that were too real.

At work, it was possible, Miranda knew, because there was always something more important to concern herself with, so she could easily walk away from the source of her emotions.

But in her personal life, she always had more difficulty negotiating the balance. She was cautious to never speak condescendingly towards her daughters, and to never let them feel guilty or responsible for her sour moods.

Her ex-husbands and former lovers, Miranda had to admit, were treated no differently than her staff. If they upset her, she would belittle them and not let herself feel responsible for anything other than the fashion industry.

Andrea, however, was different. After that first day with Andrea in her bathroom at _Runway_, she felt a twinge of guilt. She knew she was responsible, and part of her did feel awful for doing this to the girl. No matter how harshly she dismissed her, or how many icy glares she gave, the girl did not fight back, but simply smiled and reminded Miranda each day of the contrast between her inner workings and the young woman's natural benevolence.

Miranda could faintly hear her telephone ringing in the distance—first her home phone and then her cell phone. Someone was trying to reach her, but Miranda was sure that if she opened her mouth to speak, no words would come out. Miranda sighed deeply, then slowly stood up and took the telephone off the hook. She walked up to her bedroom to turn her cell phone off as well. When she entered her room, the state of disarray of the bedding and the lingering scent of sex dragged her mind back to the events of last night. Andrea.

She pulled the sheets off the bed and threw them in a pile on the other side of the room, tearing them as she pulled. Tears streamed down her face. Without looking back at the pile of ruined linens, she walked into her shower and sat under the hot water for several minutes, sobs wrecking her body as she chastised herself over and over for hurting Andrea.

Why did she try to defend her actions? Why didn't she lock the door before calling James? Why did she have to tell him she _loved_ him? Miranda began to hit her head against the granite wall of the shower as the water splashed over her face. She began to feel some physical pain, and the sensation was addictive.

Eventually, Miranda stepped out of the shower and dressed in DKNY stretch denim, Louboutin studded slipper flats, and a white Theory blouse. She left her hair to air dry in loose waves, and after looking at her face in the mirror, she decided that wearing sunglasses all day was preferable to applying the amount of makeup she would need to conceal her earlier tears.

Once dressed, she headed downstairs and grabbed the Book, but was unable to concentrate, her mind drifting back to Andrea.

"I'll be much more productive in my office," Miranda said aloud, "my office at _Runway_, where I can shut the door and tune out the world." Miranda gathered her things and drove herself to the office, handing her keys to the doorman as she pulled up outside Elias-Clarke.

"But—Ms Priestley—we can't—"

"Bore someone else with the details of your incompetence," Miranda huffed as she sailed past the young man and strode into the elevators. She didn't expect anyone to be at the office before noon on a Sunday, and was surprised to see a few lights turned on in the hallways and near her outer office. Mmh, Miranda thought, Emily must have come in to get a jump start on the week. As Miranda pushed through the glass doors, she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Andrea asleep at her desk.

Miranda stared at the young woman for several minutes, willing her to look up, but she decided the girl was at least sleeping peacefully. It would not be so peaceful if she were awake right now.

Miranda tiptoed into her office and silently shut the double doors separating her from her assistant before she tossed the Book and several other items on her desk. Five minutes of trying to look over the Book was enough, though. Miranda's mind was focused on Andrea, and her proximity only heightened the editor's emotions. Miranda picked up the book and tossed it back into her bag. Perhaps tonight, she thought. When she returned to her desk, she noticed an envelope buried under her belongings.

It was Miranda's Crane & Co envelope, but she didn't remember leaving anything there Friday night. Curious, she opened the envelope and her heart practically stopped as she read Andrea's words. She was leaving. Two weeks. Gone.

Miranda stood and began to pace in her office, the letter firmly grasped in her hands. She knew she was somehow to blame for Andrea's departure, but Miranda couldn't squelch the anger rising within her: how dare Andrea leave her after she was just beginning to trust the young woman!

She stopped and reread the letter, hoping she had misread or misunderstood something. But no, Andrea, who was motivated by fear of getting fired, had decided to leave of her own volition because it was the "right time"—Miranda didn't buy it.

When she opened the door to confront Andrea, the girl was gone, except for a post-it on her desk: _Meet me on 23_. It sent a chill through Miranda's body. What could Andrea possibly want with her up there? They still had so much to talk about.

As Miranda entered the elevator and pushed 23, her heart began racing, and she felt something she quickly recognized as fear when she thought of what Andrea might want with her up there. Oh my god, Miranda thought, if she kills me, no one would find my body here for months!

Just then, the elevator doors slid open and Miranda headed towards the corner office. She quickly realized she had never been in this position in her life—scared, unsure, desperate. She knocked on the closed door, and when she heard no response, she pushed it open.

Andrea was sitting on the desk, her legs crossed. The moment Miranda saw her, she could tell Andrea had been upset by the way her brow was furrowed, and she hated knowing she was the cause of that.

Andrea had been waiting for Miranda since she woke up at her desk and saw that Miranda had arrived at the office. She was not about to give up Miranda that easily, but she knew that each minute further she devoted to this one-sided relationship was time she was taking away from her journalism work. Andrea looked up and met Miranda's eyes, shocked to see the lack of makeup hiding the fact that the older woman had been crying all morning.

"Oh god, Miranda!" Andrea gasped, her features instantly softening as she saw the pain etched into the woman's face.

"Andrea." Miranda replied, averting her eyes.

"Are—are you okay?" Andrea asked hesitantly as she leaned forward to jump off the desk.

"No. No, I'm not."

Andrea fought her body which was screaming for her to reach out and hug Miranda. Out of instinct, she began to ask, "Can I do—"

"No." Miranda interrupted her. "Andrea, you left me. Twice. Twice _today_. And I've…," Miranda paused, "I've disappointed you very deeply."

Andrea's heart began to melt at Miranda's honesty.

"I thought you might have had this reaction to finding out the truth about our, um, arrangement," Miranda continued, "but you were forgiving, and you gave me a second chance. One which I was both grateful and fearful for. All you asked of me," she said, pausing and taking a deep breath, "was that I love you back, that I touch you."

"Miranda—" Andrea began, "I should never have stormed out this morning."

"No, you had every right to, Andrea. I am sorry I ever put you in that position. I hope you do believe me when I say there is nothing between me and James other than mutual fondness of our shared past, mostly for the sake of our daughters. And," she added, "I really did just want to hear their voice. I needed it for support, I guess. Everything last night was so new, and I was just so nervous and afraid you'd—just scared and—"

Andrea interrupted Miranda's rambling by moving closer and drawing her into a hug. "Ooh," Miranda sighed as she wrapped her arms around Andrea's waist, laying her head on the young girl's shoulder. The young woman held Miranda tight as she drew lazy circles on her back, trying to calm and reassure her.

"Now, Miranda, I do apologize for leaving so abruptly this morning. I honestly didn't think it would affect you this much." She smiled as she buried her head in Miranda's neck, "I'm _glad_ it affected you, though. It proves you care."

Miranda sighed again as she wrapped her arms even tighter around Andrea.

"But," Andrea added, "I will be leaving _Runway_." Miranda pulled away and looked into Andrea's eyes, fear flickering across her lids. "I need this. It's the best for both of us, Miranda." Andrea reached down to grab Miranda's hands. "Then, whatever _this_ is, it can develop in a less, uh, structured environment."

Miranda smiled and reached up her hand to Andrea's cheek. "Darling, I think I can handle that, as long as you don't go too far."

"Don't worry, I won't," Andrea said as she crushed her lips against Miranda's. She was quite aware of Miranda's brave hands just now, and imagining them over her own body was enough to send her to the edge.

Miranda pushed Andrea back towards the desk as she slid her hands from Andrea's waist up to her shoulders. "I think we need to take this a little more slowly," she said.

Andrea was confused. After the past few days, she wanted nothing more than to make love to Miranda. "But, I thought—I thought you wanted this."

"I do, believe me, I do," Miranda said, "but I'm not ready to talk of love or anything yet. And I don't want this to turn into either of us being used." Miranda paused and grabbed Andrea's hand, pulling it softly to her lips. "Please, give me time."

"Of course, Miranda," Andrea sighed. "But you have to promise me one thing."

"What's that?"

"No sex without me."

Miranda's cheeks turned bright pink. "I'm so sorry, Andrea," Miranda pleaded, "I don't know how to be in a relationship. I've never had the experience of caring so deeply for someone else that I thought of that person before my work. It's all so new…"

Her voice trailed off as she moved over to the window.

Andrea walked up behind her and rested her chin on Miranda's shoulder. "I know it's new. Thank you for letting me share this with you, Miranda. I want to help you learn—learn to love yourself."

Miranda spun around to face Andrea. She didn't know whether to be touched or insulted by the young girl's words. "What do you mean?"

"Miranda, you've spent so much time and energy trying to be who people want or expect you to be. I can see that you struggle with this." Andrea reached up and cupped Miranda's cheek with her hand. "Please. Let me love you, Miranda."

Miranda pulled Andrea's hand away and kissed her palm as she wrapped the young woman's arms around her and exhaled softly into her lover's arms.

The End


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